“Go!”

The man shoved his rifle between Daryl’s shoulder blades and he slid down a small slope on the wet ground, shaking his head and trying to stay clear, trying to remember that he had been through even worse situations. He had come out of more dangerous situations and would have come out of it again, it had been a week since he had hardly ever ate and at least ten hours he did not drink, he noticed his chapped lips and the pain in every part of his body. The group that had captured Rick and the rest had no qualms about beating them, especially after they understood Daryl could bring them back to the boat. The night before, her boss had sent one of his men to remotely check that everything was alright, but the man had come back and said that the boat was not left in place. Now one could say of all these men: They were bastards, they stank to death and seemed to retire to a subhuman level because of the apocalypse, as if the goal was to return to the barbarian era… But unfortunately they weren’t as dumb as it seems. They had already proven to be smart enough to trap them, and Daryl had become quite nervous. Was it possible that he, Rick, Michonne, would give up like Alicia? Perhaps they had felt so safe on their boat that they thought they were invulnerable, or simply stopped worrying about the world around them. Some pangs of conscience came over Daryl when he realized that he had been guided by his feelings at the time. He wouldn’t have noticed that a rival group followed them, even if they had appeared on the bridge and greeted them. He cursed himself for his stupidity and thought that if something happened to somebody, it would be his fault as well, no matter how things would turn out. He hadn’t paid attention and had lowered his guard…

“Your friends left you.”, the bandit boss had commented the night before. He was a small man, thin but strong. In the old world, he must have been someone insignificant, one of those who went unnoticed. The end of the world had produced its wisest, bestial side. In all honesty Daryl couldn’t accuse him. The man had checked their faces individually and ran like an undeniable judge in front of them, watching them closely. He moved his hands behind his back and made him look like an elegant man, with a little manners. He stopped in front of Carl and leaned over him.

“Do you think they’re gone?” The boy did not answer.

“No… You are not like that… You are honest and loyal people and those people don’t give up their friends… But don’t worry we will look for them ourselves and we will tell them…”

Occasionally the laughter followed from the rest of his group and Carl shot him a look that looked more annoyed than angry. The bandits had spied on them long enough to realize that Daryl was a bloodhound, and that they were tracking the boat. He had contradicted and said there was no sign of it, but one of the men had silenced him with a slap on the back of his head with his pistol. The pain had been superficial for a few hours, but shortly after they had started the return journey early in the morning, the pain in his head had brought him to the edge of despair. It was like a hammering migraine pulsing and broadcasting upwards. Daryl tried not to think about it, unfortunately that meant he was thinking of something else. The dilemma was profound: He didn’t know if he should relieve or care about Y/N. The bandit boss had left Rick and the rest of the group in a shop as a mound of misery, then caught the attention of the surrounding Walkers and lured them into a deadly trap. If they could free themselves, they had to find a way out, and that task was made quite difficult for them. At least they knew they were in danger. But Y/N, Glenn, Maggie and maybe even Nick had no idea what would happen to them… He didn’t know how they could react under fire. They would be dumbfounded and then they would first have to understand where the danger came from, then arm themselves and then quickly think about how to protect themselves. There were very few chances to get out of this fight. The boss of the bandits had been clever: He wanted to avoid the most dangerous conflict and he had succeeded. He would have no qualms about fighting four people and a child.

“So?”

They had reached the point where the boat had anchored in the last few days. Daryl looked around and saw clearly the signs of the passage of more people. He thought feverishly. There had to be something he could do. To warn the rest in some way before their arrival, to bring the boss and the other bandits to a dead end where they would find nothing and no one. The problem was that he didn’t know this vegetation in Mexico and he had no idea what was beyond the coast.

“Let’s do it…”, said a thick man in front of him, “…Every five minutes, until you find the damn boat, I’ll damn you to be in pain again, so let’s get started.”

The bandit’s fist came suddenly and so fast that Daryl was afraid his rib would break. He gasped and staggered backwards until he fell to the ground. He lay there breathing heavily, trying to move as little as possible to avoid further pain. The man who hit him leaned over him. “Five minutes.”

Daryl coughed and a drop of saliva slipped over his chin. He cleaned it with his forearm and decided it was better to stand up and try to survive for now without a rib piercing his lungs… It was the best plan he had right now. On the way to the ship, Daryl received two more heavy kicks, one in his side, one in his face and a slap, before he saw the boat in the distance. The leader lifted him off the floor and patted his shoulder.

“Congratulations, you have done your duty little Redneck!”

He gestured to some men to move and one of them to keep an eye on Daryl. The group began to move unobtrusively to the boat. Daryl tried to understand why the rest of his group was there. Why did they move the boat? Has something already happened? It anchored in a river bend, closer to the shore than necessary. They could get stuck in the ground too easily and could also be reached from the countryside. If only someone had taken planks long enough and fastened them on the deck, he would have created a perfect walkway for climbing. A few gnarled river trees spread their branches over the boat, creating a kind of shade against the sun. He imagined sitting on the bridge and sitting in the shade of a beech. Daryl couldn’t believe that they had covered this path by kilometers only for a bit of shade… One of the bandits had a long, thick black beard, and he sat down beside him and pointed his gun at him. Daryl looked at him with hatred, then sat up to survey the boat. He could see four figures on the bridge. Two of them were sitting cross-legged, a third person stood at the balustrade and peered across the other side of the river - the wrong shore, in silence and without being armed, while the last person sat in a chair, not far away, with stretched forward legs and crossed feet on the balustrade, apparently busy talking to the other person. Daryl could swear that it was Nick. This pose was soft, hands crossed behind the neck. In quick succession four shots made him jump. Daryl looked at the bandits. Two of them had their rifles pointed at the figures and at that moment they rose from their crouched position and giggled contentedly. He looked back at the boat and saw the four figures collapsing where they were. Two of them lay dead on the bridge. The one person in the chair was now below the balustrade and the other person, probably Y/N, was leaning against the metal bars, legs bent at a strange angle. Daryl didn’t even have time to scream, to be shocked, he didn’t even get angry. A too-known pain exploded in his chest, closing his throat and stopping him at that moment. He felt it differently than at previous times. When Merle died, or Beth, it was the same kind of pain that had entered him. But the intensity stuns him this time. It was as if the world was cut off… He felt the damp grass under his fingers and a worm that returned to the earth under his palm, but he didn’t really notice.

“Stand on asshole, you have to do the honors.”

Two arms pulled him to his feet and Daryl didn’t rebel for the first time in his life. He got up and found that his legs were still working. His whole body worked, he was alive and he was there. But at what price? Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t had to move his legs, which felt so heavy. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t seen the faces of the men laughing at the conquest. A strong push sent him forward, his wrists still bound and bleeding, his arms dangling before him, a lump in his throat that showed no signs of release and a dull ache in his chest. At that moment, he realized that Y/N was dead. And that he loved her.

Nick glanced at you, but you didn’t notice. He remained silent, tied another rope and secured the knot, as his grandfather had taught him as a child. His grandfather liked to fish, he took Alicia and him to the lake often, leaving the girl to his grandmother as he took Nick to the shore and taught him all the little tricks of fishing. He didn’t even remember half when his grandparents brought him home, but he was happy after such days. Some advice from Madison’s father, however, was not completely useless. He knew how to tie knots that were very hard to rebuild.

“Let’s see how long it lasts.” You took one end of the net and spread it over the bridge. Nick, on the other hand, did the same.

“It should be okay.”

You didn’t look at his face and actually avoided looking at him. Nick had noticed it the day before, but there was no time to stop and talk. You had to act fast. Glenn and Maggie were still there, leaving the child with them. Organizing with Judith to keep an eye on them was even more complicated. But the attack was imminent and the preparations were almost completed.

“All right, let’s prepare it on the tree and wait for Glenn and Maggie to come back in. Then we’ll attach the last ropes.”

“And then let us wait.”

“Exactly, then we will wait.” The boy began to fasten the net in the middle of the bridge and tighten the string. When he was close enough to you because he couldn’t escape without being rude, he said: “Because of the other day… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” He sighed, got up and put his hands on his hips. You still didn’t look at him.

“You have to do what you think is right for what you want, Y/N…”

“It’s not just about me.”, you sighed and ran a hand over your forehead to wipe away the drops of perspiration that had formed. “I should have thought of you too, I was selfish, it’s true.”

“Y/N -…”

“No, Nick, it’s like that.” Finally you turned to look at him. “I met Daryl back then… I don’t know… Maybe it would be better to wait.”

“Don’t be an idiot, it would be stupid of you, wait for what, wait for who?” Nick shook his head. “You did what your instinct told you.”

“And I didn’t use my brain, the most important thing.”

“It’s the survival instinct that brought us here, not reason, things happen, we make a decision, but let’s make it quick, that’s what the instinct is for, and I listen to you.” The boy reached out and stopped you, who threatened to turn and stop the conversation. “I have no right to tell you what to do, excuse me if I thought I had it, in my defense I can only say I was afraid that things would change between us.”

“It could…”, Nick grinned. “You’ve already decided in your mind, you’re acting like that and you’re calling reasons as if you’d already made the decision, it’s your instinct that tells you what to do.”

“And what about you?”, you whispered.

“I need you. No matter how. Even if it’s just friendship.”

For the first time in a while you showed a smile and you both knew it was a sincere smile. Nick and you hugged and that was like the first time you met.

They captured Daryl first. They still didn’t completely trust the group around Rick Grimes, but they had to take their precautions. One of the bandits had been watching the prisoner the whole time. The plan now was to explain to oneself how to set the ship in motion. Daryl, with his hands bound and his morale at a low, but if he followed his morale, he would have saved himself, but in the end it was more important to protect the others of his group. The bandits knew well that no loss, no physical pain, was enough when it came to survival. If they threw Daryl off this boat, he would somehow manage. The boss didn’t want to kill him, after all, he was not a cruel man… They had killed his friends because he didn’t want to do any harm. If they had attacked as well, those four would have defended themselves. They would have been in the majority; It was like finding a half squashed insect lying on the ground, shaking its hectic legs. Killing him is the only act of piety they can do, just like the four on the boat: A charity action. As long as they weren’t with Daryl, he did not even start to rebel. He was still in a kind of mental limbo, a place where everything seemed muted. When he was on the bridge, a few meters from his friends, he wished he had done it. He didn’t have the guts to look at the bodies, he didn’t want to see them dead. To see them would mean that everything is real and would bring their disappearance to a more concrete level. It would drive him crazy. Yet he couldn’t think of anything else but Y/N’s face was smeared with blood, the bullet hole in the middle of the head that disfigured her features, and the blank expression. He clenched his fists and tried to distance himself from this image in his mind, but the more he tried to suppress it, the clearer it became in his head. New details appeared, his mouth half open, like the shadow of a slight smile. His fingers tightened and Daryl dried his mouth in fear. When the bandits reached him on the deck like pirates rode up to attack a ship, Daryl looked everywhere except the corpses. There was a light breeze that moved the leaves of the trees. Their shadow formed moving drawings on the boat and the sound they produced had something harmonious about them. Daryl was sure he wouldn’t forget that moment, never in his life. The moment when he could hear his soul break and he ran to his heart to divide it in two.

“Hey, what the damn hell…” One of the men had raised the next corpse to throw it into the water, only to find that it was already in an advanced state of decay. He turned it over to the side and it revealed the swollen, gray face of a Walker.

“What’s this bullshit!” The bandit boss approached Daryl and hit him. “Where’s the fucking rest?”

The man looked around confused, it was clear that not even he understood what was happening. He felt something fall on him and instinctively crouch, only to find that it was a thick fishing net. He looked around, heard the men screaming and out of the corner of his eye he saw them wriggling on the spot, with the result that they became even more entangled in the net.

“Stop!” The boss’s voice overwhelmed the other bandits and almost all the men fell silent. Daryl saw that they were trapped under a net that covered the entire length of the bridge. Ropes dangling from the lower branches of the trees above made it clear that they had landed in a trap, but whoses? The man raised his arms and cursed the bandits who had tied his wrists together. He moved by pushing his body into the center of the bridge and began to search for a way to at least free his hands. His eyes were caught by a quick movement. Just in time to see a rope fall, lazily, as if it had been cut at that moment. Daryl saw the door leading under the deck open flat and shortly afterwards followed on the other side from the captain’s door. Someone had opened it from a distance and soon it was clear why. The terrible sounds of the Walkers reached the ears of the now captive, the small herd was soon in sight and trotted towards them. The perfect prey: Unable to move, they offered their meat through the holes in the net. The bandits had already begun to cut the net, but it was thick and it took some time to create even one hole wide enough to pass. Daryl soon heard the first, painful scream of a bandit bitten by a Walker and almost panicked. He had to find a way out. He looked at the man at his side, who was desperately cutting the net.

“Hey!”, he called back. He turned and gave him a look. For a second he was stunned and saw only a plethora of white dots in front of his eyes. The screams became more intense. He shook his head and had to stay clear. Daryl threw himself to the ground and took the knife the man had dropped. He began to sever the ropes that held his wrists together and almost cheered when he saw that they quickly frayed. They were old and worn ropes.

“Daryl!”

A scream startled him. He stopped and looked up, but saw nothing. Around him, the bandits moved, shoved him, shouting orders and curses. The man was thrown around for a few moments before he realized he knew that voice.

“Y/N?”

Suddenly he saw from the corner of his eye, arms and ropes on the shore. You had run to the water, taking only two steps to soak your shoes and ankles. Behind you, with a hallucinated and frightened look, appeared Nick and Glenn. The knife fell from Daryl’s hand and he didn’t even notice it. Barely able to discern from the men who died near him, he couldn’t help but lick his lips with a pale smile.

“Daryl!”

Your scream was one of the few things he still heard clearly. But now, he could die, knowing that you were alive.